Fish and Snake
by Kaj-Nrig
Summary: It's an old saying, and nobody knows it anymore. "Whether you eat a fish or a snake, you will still die in the end." I suppose it must've eaten a fish or a snake, something. Either way, it's dead, too. A some-old Vincent reflecting on... snakes and fish.


There was a saying in the olden days: "Whether you eat a fish or a snake, you will still die in the end."

I believe that statement is no longer in use, and I believe I'm the reason why.

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Fish and Snake  
By Kaj-Nrig

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A lot of things happen when you're asleep – planets rotate, creatures are born and killed, murderers emerge into the darkness and disappear just as suddenly, and the world balances a mutual trepidation and buoyancy. Sleep too long, though, and eventually the balance begins to tip. And when you wake up, you find that Trepidation has grown fucked, fat and frightening, and for some reason, Buoyancy has jumped sides and the two are happily married (or whored, whichever you prefer). Which leaves only Uncertainty to occupy the raised pan of the balance. Eventually, when Trepidation and Buoyancy have the child known as Gluttony, they must give their newborn a toy, and there's no better toy than free reign over the Uncertainty that rules the masses.

So what do you do?

If you're a chivalrous man, you look up at Uncertainty, notice how high and molested it's become, and you decide to leap up and do your part to even the odds. More often than not you'll find yourself a) unable to reach the balance and die due to the lack progress, b) not sufficient in weight and presence and fall to your doom when you finally decide to get back down, or c) so much of an interesting new tidbit that Gluttony decides to play with you, and in the process accidentally tears you apart.

If you're a smart man, you look up at Uncertainty, notice how high and molested it's become, and you decide to save your own skinny ass and join up with the winning side of things. Chances are you'll find that side much more comforting. You become nice and warm in the folds of skin and fat that is Trepidation, and it's easy sleeping. Until those same folds accidentally swallow you up and you find yourself suffocating in a rather amusing mess of rolls and folds and love handles and what have you. Eventually you die, as well.

Finally, if you're a cowardly man, you look up at Uncertainty, notice how high and molested it's become, and you decide to ignore the entire balance completely and go off by yourself. This option proves to be the most prudent thing to do, but it does bring with it a one minor implications: for the rest of your life, you are revoked the right to live amongst people.

Needless to say, I chose the cowardly man's route. I was smart enough to carve out a niche within the folds of Trepidation, and I was lucky enough to survive being the chivalrous one, and when I got a second lease on life (or curse, fuckup, awesome new look, call it what you want), I finally realized that there was another option.

"Whether you eat a fish or a snake, you will still die in the end."

That first life would be the snake, I suppose. After all, you don't lose half of your body and three-fourths of your mind by eating a fucking trout. I think, under any other circumstances, I would have most certainly died after eating that snake. But, for whatever reason, I didn't die. Maybe it didn't make it past the giant hole in my chest, courtesy of a generous little prick. Either way, I understood then what the smart route got me – an unrequited love, don't it hurt like a bitch – and what the chivalrous route forced on me – a new cavity in my stomach, a slick new arm, and three psychobabble thugs in my head – and I figured the only thing left to try was the cowardly route.

And what do you know, thirty years later, Uncertainty and Buoyancy were now grandparents, and Gluttony had spawned a freak named Power.

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And then comes the fish. You see, after those three times ten years, I suppose I had gotten mighty hungry – a snake can't feed you very well for thirty years – and the folks that woke me had brought some fish with them. And it was good. I had forgotten how wonderful the white meat could taste.

But that's beyond the point. The point is that I realized another option: starting over. Hell, it's not every day you get reconstructed into a new man (literally).

So that makes four options now: chivalry, smarts, cowardice, and restart.

In order to start over, though, there were things to finish first, strings to tie off, gangrenous arms to sever, wounds to cauterize. Things of that nature. So what did I do? I went out and got rid of my smart life – I visited that unrequited love of mine and she had apparently become some sort of freak herself – and after that I did to my chivalry what it had done to me – eventually the previously mentioned prick injected himself with his own "voice inside my head" drugs, and then I proceeded to rip his heart out, tear his arms off, and split his brain into three unique and separate forms. It was magnificent. And I'll admit that I had a lot of fun.

"Whether you eat a fish or a snake, you will still die in the end."

I heard that saying once during this little "new life crisis" I had. It was the fish, I think. I had to eat that fish, too, before I could die in the end.

Except that that never really happened. I don't know how the fish escaped, because I didn't have any gaping holes in my body anymore, but escaped it did. So I was left there again, left to contemplate my next course of action.

A couple hundred years later, I still haven't found any more fish or snakes to swallow. I still feel the effects of those first tastes, though. That snake lingers in my mouth, and I think the poison from it is still running through my body like some sort of weird, sick, twisted bloodstream. As for the fish, the savory fish, I can taste it on the roof of my mouth whenever I press my tongue up there.

But I haven't died yet. I thought that my end would come with the end of that other long-lived dog fellow, but even after he went away, I remained. Not that I mind, really. It isn't fun anymore, but it certainly isn't awful, either.

I haven't eaten any fish or snakes since those first two times, and I think they might have only been meant as a one-time dish. And after you'd digested everything, you were done. I think that's why the saying went out of practice.

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A/N – This is absolutely nothing except some existential chitchat that holds no meaning whatsoever. Written over the course of two days for a total of about three or four hours. Hoo-rah. As always, FFVII is Square's trademark and copyrighted material, and this story is only meant for free enjoyment purposes.

This sort of narrative sounds awfully strange for Vincent, even from my perspective. But I figured that the guy couldn't always be one-liners and curt phrases throughout the rest of his life. Speaking of which, when does this little reflection take place? Beats the hell out of me. Go ask my Muse; she's in the back, banging Creativity. No wonder I haven't gotten any work done.


End file.
